Despair shone in her eyes. True despair, without light or hope. The sort of despair that wished for death. The sort of despair that began to erode strength, to eat away at any resolve to endure. She blinked at him. Four times. I am here, I am with you. Fenrys knew it for what it was. The final message. Not before death, but before the sort of breaking that no one would walk away from. Before Maeve returned with the Wyrdstone collar. Cairn rotated the poker in his hands, heat rippling off its point. And Fenrys couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t allow it. In his shredded soul, in what was left of
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